


Blueberry Pancakes

by SunGreen70



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1222591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunGreen70/pseuds/SunGreen70
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything changes one morning over breakfast. Originally posted to LiveJournal, July 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blueberry Pancakes

Waking up in a strange bed was nothing new to Chip. On tour, he probably slept in thirty different beds in thirty days. After a moment of feeling disoriented, he’d gather his bearings and get on with the day. Just part of life on the road.

The difference in waking up in _Jeff’s_ bed was the incongruous familiarity. Certainly he should have experienced the same initial confusion. He’d been in this house before, and he’d fucked Jeff any number of times. But he’d never fucked Jeff in this house, in the bed that was half as wide as the king sized hotel beds they usually shared. The cramped quarters had them lying entwined long after they were spent from sex; personal space an impossibility. Chip had fallen asleep with his head on the same pillow as Jeff’s, breathing in the faint bouquet of cigarette smoke and soap that scented Jeff’s skin.

In the morning, Chip knew exactly where he was when he woke, and he smiled as the ancient wallpaper printed with fading ivy came into view. In all the years Jeff had owned this house, he’d never gotten around to redecorating. Chip yawned and stretched luxuriously before snuggling back beneath the blankets. The first rays of sun pierced the slats of the blinds and teased his closed eyelids. He turned his face towards the opposite wall and considered going back to sleep.

Jeff climbing out of bed had awakened him, but he’d been too comfortable to open his eyes as Jeff carefully rearranged the blankets over him and slipped out of the bedroom, scooping his discarded clothing from the floor along the way. Instead he lay dozing, enjoying the way the same cigarette and soap smell clung to the sheets, and the way the pillow held the shape carved out by Jeff’s head from so many nights of his sleeping on it. For the first time in months, Chip felt completely relaxed. Coming here had been the right decision.

When the last two Whose Live shows had been rescheduled for the fall, the four of them were suddenly free to go home three days earlier than planned. Upon hearing the news, Chip’s first instinct had been to call Patty and let her know he was on his way. He assumed Ryan and Greg would do the same, but from their sly exchange of looks, he realized they had no such intentions. Most likely, they planned to stay right there in the hotel, and not leave it until duty called them home.

Observing them, it suddenly occurred to Chip that he’d been granted the same gift, these three days to do with what he liked. As long as he didn’t make that call, he needn’t meet anyone’s expectations. As he hesitated, his fingers grazing the phone in his pocket, he met Jeff’s glance. He grinned suddenly in response, and when he drew his hand from his pocket, it was empty.

They were near enough to Jeff’s house that it made more sense to go there. And so, giddy with the unexpected freedom, Chip slid behind the wheel of a rental car and didn’t look back as they peeled off down the highway, both of them loudly singing along with Tom Petty on _Runnin’ Down A Dream._

The sun was gathering strength, warming the side of Chip’s face and his bare shoulder. He kept his eyes closed for a few more moments, but wakefulness was winning out, and kitchen sounds coupled with the aroma of brewing coffee finally lured him out of bed.

Downstairs, Chip paused to take in the sight of Jeff doing something with a couple of mixing bowls at the counter. The kitchen windows were on the same side as those in the bedroom, and the sunlight washed over Jeff in a golden aura - a barefoot angel in faded jeans, rocking some serious bed head. Chip grinned and moved quietly behind him, slipping his arms around Jeff’s waist.

“Morning.”

Jeff turned in his embrace with a start. A smile rivaling the sunlight lit up his face when he met Chip’s eyes. “Hey.”

The warmth of that smile surged through Chip. He brought his hand up to the back of Jeff’s head to twine his fingers through the tousled hair, and drew him in for a lingering kiss. Jeff’s arms tightened around Chip and pulled him closer, his hands sliding down his lower back and beneath the waistband of his jeans. The touch sent a pleasant shiver down Chip’s spine, and he was tempted to haul Jeff back upstairs to the bedroom then and there. But Jeff’s mouth tasted of coffee, reminding him that he was hungry. He peered over Jeff’s shoulder at the cluttered countertops.

Jeff smiled at his redirected interest and gestured towards the table at the far end of the kitchen. “Sit. It’s almost ready.”

Chip obediently slid onto one of the wooden chairs. Jeff brought over a mug of coffee with two sugars and a splash of half and half already in it. Exactly the way he liked it. Chip took a welcome swallow and watched Jeff move back and forth from the counters to the stovetop with surprising ease. “What’re you making?”

“You’ll see.”

Chip grinned and waited, sipping his coffee and gazing out the window at the brightly blooming azaleas. He sniffed the sweet smelling air appreciatively until Jeff returned to the table with plates in hand.

“You _made_ these?” Chip asked incredulously, as Jeff set down a plate of perfectly browned pancakes dotted with glistening blueberries like jewels.

“I did,” Jeff said, a note of pride in his voice. He slid a small pitcher – an actual _pitcher,_ not a plastic bottle topped with Aunt Jemima’s head – of warmed maple syrup in Chip’s direction.

“You cook?” Somehow Chip would have thought that at home Jeff survived entirely on take-out and meals paid for by his manager in too hip restaurants. Much like he had before he’d gotten married and learned to eat home cooked food.

“Well, only these, really,” Jeff confided, picking up his fork. A slight flush of color touched his cheeks as he met Chip’s eyes and added “And only on special occasions.”

Chip smiled and reached for his own fork.

After breakfast Chip leaned back in his chair, comfortably full. He raised his legs under the table to drop his feet on Jeff’s lap. “You missed your calling. You should open a restaurant.”

“Well, I only know how to make the one dish,” Jeff reminded him. He massaged Chip’s foot through his sock. “So unless there’s a market for peanut butter and jelly… Want some more?”

Chip groaned in response. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back to catch the still strong morning sun on his face. A contented silence fell as Jeff continued kneading his feet with gentle hands. Chip sighed deeply. “Life should always be like this.”

“It could be.”

Chip opened his eyes. “Huh?”

Jeff shrugged, that faint splash of color rising in his cheeks again. “I’m just saying…you could spend a lot more time here.”

“No, I can’t.” Chip lifted his head to look at Jeff. “You know that.”

Jeff focused his gaze on Chip’s feet, still resting in his lap. “Why not?”

“Well… because I need to get home. Addie has a dance recital, and Chase is starting Little League next week.”

“Oh.” Jeff’s voice was flat. He continued to stare at Chip’s feet, though his hands had stilled. Silence stretched between them.

“Jeff, you didn’t think that I… that this was…” Chip trailed off. Jeff looked up.

“What?” he demanded.

Chip shrugged helplessly. “I’m still going home in two days. I was never _not_ going to go home.”

Jeff shifted his eyes over Chip’s head, out the window. “You came here. You wanted to be here. When we found out the tour was ending early, I could see how much you wanted to be here – and how much you didn’t want to go back _there_.” 

Chip held up a hand. “Wait – hold up a minute. I do want to be here. That doesn’t mean I don’t ever want to go home. This has nothing to do with my home life.”

Jeff returned his gaze to Chip. “Really,” he said dryly.

“Yes, really,” Chip replied sharply. “I wanted to spend this time with you. But I have a family. I love them.”

Jeff got up abruptly. Chip’s feet slid off his lap and landed with a thud on the kitchen floor. He moved across the room, stopping at the counter. When he spoke, his voice was so low that Chip wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.

“And where does that leave me?”

Chip stared at Jeff’s back, stunned into silence. “Jeff…” he said, when he found his voice. “I do want to be here with you. But… I have another life to get back to. My real life.”

Jeff turned around, his eyes dark with hurt. “Your _real_ life? This isn’t real to you? Because it’s pretty goddamn real to me.”

Chip exhaled deeply. “Okay. Bad choice of words. It’s real to me too. But it’s just…”

“Just what?” Jeff’s voice was harsh. “Just fucking?”

Chip pushed back his chair and turned towards the window. The sun beat steadily against the glass now, and he couldn’t see a damn thing for the glare. Still, he remained squinting out towards the yard rather than face Jeff.

“Don’t do this,” he said finally, pleading. “We have two more days. Can’t we just-”

“Just fuck?” Jeff repeated bitterly. “Just get our rocks off until you go back to your real life, with the ones you love?”

“That’s not what I…” Chip did turn to look at him then. Jeff slumped over the counter among the mixing bowls and spilled flour where only minutes ago he had so happily been making blueberry pancakes. Chip ran a hand through his hair in bewilderment. How had their idyllic morning been shattered this quickly? He let out a slow release of breath. They both stood motionless and silent, their misery as palpable as the sweet scent of blueberry pancakes that still hung in the air, mocking the sudden change of mood.

“Maybe I’d better take off today,” Chip said finally. There was no malice in the words. All he felt was sadness.

Jeff didn’t turn around. “Yeah. Maybe you’d better.”

 

*****

 

It was good to be home. Chip kept thinking that. The kids had been so happy when he walked in, tackling him as he crouched to gather them close into arms that had ached to hold them. They shouted over one another, clamoring for his attention with their competing stories of Little League, dance classes, kindergarten graduation ceremonies. Over their heads, Patty smiled at him. “We missed you, hon.” He and Patty had made love that night, and Chip only thought of Jeff for a fleeting moment before losing himself in his wife’s embrace.

By the next morning, they’d fallen into the routines that would shape the rest of the summer. Most days, Patty and the kids had full schedules that kept them out of the house from morning till late afternoon. Chip offered to help out, to chauffer the kids around to play dates and Little League practice and swimming lessons. Sometimes Patty accepted, but more often she preferred to do it herself and visit with the other mothers that formed her social circle. Chip didn’t know most of them.

In stark contrast, the evenings were chaotic and noisy. Since school was out, the kids were allowed to stay up later, and to have friends over after dinner. Their guests were often accompanied by one or more parents, who sat in the kitchen drinking coffee with Patty while the noise of Nickelodeon and the Wii bounced off the walls. After a few moments of polite conversation with Patty’s friends, Chip usually found himself retreating to the basement workshop, where he could spend the evening in relative peacefulness, making plans for all the projects he’d been meaning to get to for ages. With the house empty for most of the day, he had plenty of time to start on them. So he’d spend his time examining the wobbly banister; the loose hinge on the screen door, and make lists of the supplies he’d need to fix them.

Somehow, though, he never seemed to get around to carrying the tasks out. There was no real hurry – he had all summer. And Patty didn’t seem to notice that he hadn’t done any of them. So instead, once she and the kids had left for the day he’d put his lists aside and sit in the porch swing or at the kitchen table, letting his thoughts drift. The trouble with that was, most of the time they drifted back to Jeff.

Chip still felt terrible about the way they’d parted. He had gone over that morning in Jeff’s kitchen countless times, trying to make sense of it. He’d always assumed Jeff was satisfied with the way things stood between them. _“Just fucking”,_ as Jeff had accused. But Chip had thought Jeff was okay with that. He thought they both were.

Many times during the summer, Chip had thought of calling him, trying to patch things up. Several times he’d gotten as far as dialing his number before giving up, because he couldn’t think how he could repair the damage that had been done.

Besides feeling guilty, Chip missed Jeff terribly. Not just physically – they’d gone months at a time without seeing one another before. But Chip had never fully realized how closely they’d remained in contact during the times apart. Whether it was a long, meandering phone conversation or a dozen or so quick texts during the day, Jeff had always been there. Now he wasn’t, and all summer long Chip had been acutely aware of the void his absence had left.

Jeff was on Chip’s mind one August morning as he sat alone in the kitchen while Patty and the kids slept upstairs. Lost in thought, he gazed at the wall calendar hanging over the toaster, overflowing with stickers and felt tip penned reminders of dentist appointments and Cub Scout meetings. His eyes fell on the current date and he realized with a jolt that the Whose Live Anyway tour would be starting up again soon. In a few weeks, he’d be trading his slow, uneventful days for the chaotic energy of the stage. More significantly, he’d be seeing Jeff again…

“Morning, hon.” Chip started as Patty breezed into the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee maker. Chip had thought about turning it on himself, but then he hadn’t. Patty didn’t seem to care. She moved about the kitchen at a pace that made him almost dizzy to watch. “I have to take Chase to Little League practice, and the girls have swimming at ten, then they’re staying at the pool to play with Melissa and Melanie. Jeannie is going to take them all to Caitlin’s birthday party from there, and I’ll pick them up at four. After Little League, Chase is going to the Donovan’s for the day and to sleep over. After I drop him off I’m going to Lisa’s and we’re meeting Dana for lunch. We should all be home by five thirty or six, well, except for Chase.”

Chip sat blinking under the torrent of words. He hadn’t followed any of it. “Okay,” he said anyway when Patty paused for breath.

Patty grabbed a travel mug from a cabinet and filled it with coffee. “Want some?”

“Okay,” he said again. “Thanks.”

When Patty set his coffee in front of him, she kissed the air near his cheek, not noticing that she’d missed. “Gotta get going,” she called over her shoulder as she tore out of the kitchen. “Addie! Taylor! Come on, we have to go in five minutes!”

Chip stayed where he was, listening to the noise of Patty and the kids as they pounded down the stairs and through hallways, babbling and laughing and shouting at one another in the discordant harmony of family routine. The front door slammed and the house was abruptly plunged back into the silence of – he glanced at the clock on the microwave – less than seven minutes prior. He was alone again for the rest of the day.

He raised his coffee mug to take a sip, then made a face. Too much sugar and no creamer. He set it back down on the table with a sigh, too weary to get up and pour a new cup.

 _I want to go home_ , he thought suddenly. He blinked and looked around, as though someone else had spoken the words.

 

*****

 

The proprietor of the all-night convenience store, an elderly man of Arabic descent, peered suspiciously through the plate glass window at Chip for the second time in twenty minutes. Chip shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He’d better do something soon, before the man called the police. He jammed his Styrofoam container of barely touched coffee into the cup holder and started up the car.

He only had to drive a short way before he found another parking lot, adjoining a diner that was apparently a favorite stop for truck drivers. He pulled up alongside a semi with the Safeway logo painted on its’ side. The truck shielded him from view of the diner windows. Still, now Chip moved quickly, pulling out his cell phone before nerves got the better of him again.

He listened to five rings before the line picked up with the clattering sound of someone groping sleepily for the receiver.

“What time is it?” came Jeff’s croaking voice by way of greeting.

Chip glanced at his watch. “It’s five eighteen.”

“Five _AM_?” Chip almost smiled at Jeff’s indignation. “Who is this?”

“Jeff, it’s me.”

Silence from the other end. Then Chip heard a faint squeaking of mattress springs and pictured Jeff sitting up in bed, running a hand through his tousled dark hair.

“What do you want, Chip?”

 He wasn’t going to make this any easier. Chip sighed. No surprise there. “Jeff, I left.”

“Huh? Left where?”

“Home. Patty.”

Another moment of silence. “Why the hell did you do that?” Jeff asked finally.

Chip stared through the side window at the Safeway truck. _Ingredients For Life_ , the logo proclaimed. Chip wished he could get a look at that recipe.

“I don’t know,” he said in response to Jeff.

A snort. “Oh. Well, that’s great. Thanks for sharing. Good talking to you, Chip.”

“Jeff, wait.” Chip listened, and when he didn’t hear a dial tone, he sighed and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Look, Jeff... remember what I said that day at your house?” No need to elaborate. Jeff knew which one he meant. “About my real life? I was wrong. Patty and the kids – they have this whole life away from me. My being on the road most of the year and showing up for a couple weeks at a time – that’s _their_ real life now, and they’re happy with it. They’re so used to me being gone that my being there doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Jeff’s voice was flat.

A paunchy, balding man in a sweat-stained Dodgers jersey came out of the diner and lumbered over to the Safeway truck. He gave Chip one incurious glance before he heaved himself up into the cab and started the engine. Chip watched him back out and pull onto the highway with a jarringly loud shifting of gears as he pondered his next words.

“It wasn’t just them. It was me. I spent the whole time on tour thinking how much I wanted to go home. And once I was there, I still felt out of place. Like _my_ real life was somewhere else.”

“So… you walked out? What‘d you do, leave a note on the kitchen table?”

“No, of course not. I talked to Patty about it. Last night.”

“How’d she take it?” There was a note of concern in Jeff’s voice now. He and Patty had always been pals.

“It wasn’t anything I’d ever want to go through again. But… honestly, I don’t think she was really surprised. It hasn’t been… we’ve been growing apart for a long time. I can see that now.”  Chip squeezed his eyes shut briefly, trying to block out the memory of the night before. He cleared his throat and continued.

“It’s not gonna be all that different from before, really. I’ll go back sometimes to see the kids, of course… Patty too. We’ll still be friends.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Eventually. Maybe not for a while. But… she’ll find someone else who fits in better with her life. I think she would have anyway. It was just a matter of time.”

“Well… I’m sorry, Chip.” Jeff sounded less distant now. He paused. “What are you going to do now?”

Chip hesitated. “Could I come over?”

“What, here? My place?” Jeff sounded startled. “Where are you?” 

“Uh… I’m on the 10 somewhere…” Chip glanced at the GPS on the dashboard. “Twenty two miles from your house.”

There was a long pause.

“You can’t do this,” Jeff said finally. “You can’t just come back out of the blue, announcing that you’re free now, and expect me to just… be here waiting for you.”

“I know.”

Another long moment passed while Chip held his breath, bracing himself for the sound of a dial tone. Suddenly, he heard himself putting into words what he had come to understand that summer, while they’d been apart. “Jeff,” he blurted out, “when I'm with you... when we were at your house, it felt like home. And you were right... it was where I wanted to be. It was where I belonged."

Only the sound of Jeff’s breathing could be heard on the other end of the line. Chip gripped his cell phone until his knuckles turned white.

“Jeff,” he said, “I... I need you.”

Finally, Jeff sighed, a sharp exhale of breath.

“Okay. Come over. Just don’t expect… ”

“Don’t expect what?” Chip asked warily, when he didn’t finish the sentence.

“Don’t expect me to know what’s gonna happen now.” There was a tremor in Jeff’s voice. “Because I don’t have a fucking clue.”

Chip blinked hard against a sudden stinging in his eyes and nodded. “Okay,” he got out over the lump in his throat.

Jeff hung up.

 

******

 

Half an hour later, Chip pulled up in front of the house he’d fled at the start of summer. There were still several weeks to go before fall officially began, but the yard was already showing signs of the change of season. The azaleas had lost a fair amount of blossoms, and their color seemed less radiant than the last time Chip had been here. The lawn needed mowing. But the sight of it made Chip relax his grip on the steering wheel. The tension in his shoulders loosened a little. He might have smiled if his stomach hadn’t been taut with nerves about what would happen when he went back inside the house.

Chip got out of the car, pausing to glance at the duffle bag in the backseat, filled with the few things he’d packed before leaving the house he’d once thought of as home. But, no – he’d leave it there for now. Looking back at Jeff’s house, he closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself.

Suddenly his eyes flew open again as he recognized it - the sweet scent that was imprinted on his memory. The one he would forever associate with Jeff, and that morning when everything had suddenly felt so right, for the first time in his life.

Chip exhaled deeply, and clicked the button on his car remote to lock the doors. A smile touched his lips as he started up the front walk, towards the scent of blueberry pancakes.

 


End file.
